Parasitic
by shomarus
Summary: Widowmaker loves to kill. Mercy gives her another reason to do it. [Grim Reaper!Angela, Mercy-centric.]


"The goal of all life is death."

Angela Ziegler would have disagreed with this quote. Disagreed with a passion that you'd only see when she was trying to bring patients back from Death's cold claws. The goal of life is whatever the beholder makes it. To please someone, to achieve a greater good, to find self-worth and fulfillment. But as Mercy, she doesn't know anymore.

Mercy is impassive, unknowing, uncaring. Angela saved people from death. Mercy engulfs it, consumes it, absorbs it. In turn, she became the embodiment of life's bitter end, and took no more pleasure in her job than she did when she was a doctor. When she called herself a Valkyrie, jokingly. Because she had the ability to choose who lived or who died. But Mercy does not get the luxury of choice. All Mercy is graced with is a task and the obligation to fulfill it.

She'd held the hands of children before. She'd held the hands of many people, squeezing them gently, assuring them that everything would be alright. If Mercy thinks about it, leading people to the afterlife was similar. Comfort them, protect them. "Nothing will hurt you now," she would whisper, whisper so quietly that even the newly dead were unsure if they had heard her correctly. "Because I will protect you, and I will show you mercy."

Even now, there is more work to be done. Mercy knows that there was always more work to be done. She can't complain about the workload; she never has the time to overthink what she does.

There are others like her, of course, but she doesn't know how many. She doesn't know if there is enough. And to think about what would happen if a soul fades out before she can arrive... It is a thought that scares her. It is a thought that's beyond her, and she always feels the tendrils of concern gripping at her stomach whenever she tries to wonder.

* * *

The lost soul is nearby. Mercy lets herself drift to him. Up the stairs, in the bedroom. She's never been in this house before, but she knows where to go. She figures it came with her life state, the ability to feel where someone just died. To gravitate to them without a second thought. Mercy used to question why. Not just questions about her abilities. Wondering why she had chosen to become this. Why she couldn't have just settled for being dead, and why she couldn't be on the receiving end of Death's gentle grasp. She doesn't ask anymore. She stopped asking questions when the world stopped giving her answers.

"I'm with you," she murmurs to the soul. She holds his hand all the way until he vanishes, and that was that. Now, Mercy prepares to find another soul and to take them to the afterlife. This is her life. A constant cycle of work that she won't allow herself to break. She doesn't know what would happen if she let it.

But there is a problem. A problem that starts with warm brown eyes bearing holes in her back, and a problem that ends with a rifle being pointed straight at her chest. Mercy turns. She knows she shouldn't. She can't be killed anyways-she's already dead. And what's danger to a person who can't die? She should just fly off. But she doesn't. She turns, and she sees a killer.

"Who… Who are you?" the woman asks pointedly. Mercy doesn't know what to say. Or, more accurately; she doesn't know if she should speak at all. The rifle isn't going down, and Mercy wonders if she has the time to spare a few words. She knows that she doesn't. So of course, she speaks anyways.

"I am called many things," she says, studying her face, every emotion. Staring into those eyes. Eyes that carry very little emotion, but Mercy thinks that her voice betrays her visage. "To most, I am Death. The Grim Reaper is another name that comes to mind, although I am one of many. If it isn't to much too ask, I would like to be known as… Mercy."

The name wasn't given to her. It was something she had called herself, because when she first started leading souls she desperately wanted to tell herself that she _wasn't_ taking away the loved ones of many. That she wasn't disrupting the flow of life, taking others to a lonely hell. That instead, _she_ was leading them to the next life, that she was leading them so that they wouldn't turn out like her. Now, it is a name she's used so often that it doesn't matter whether her theories are true or not.

"Allow me to rephrase," the woman continues. If she's off-put, she doesn't show it. "Why are you in my house?"

Mercy looks at the corpse. Without the warmth of his soul next to it, the body appears lonely. The expression on his face looks lonely. Accepting, loving, but lonely all the same. Mercy notices the ring on his finger, and connects it to the killer in front of her. "Why did you kill this man?"

"That is none of your business."

Silence. "... Perhaps it isn't. Goodnight," Mercy says and leaves through an open window.

* * *

They meet a second time, only two months later. This time, Mercy notes that the woman's appearance is much more monstrous, much more nightmarish. The skin that was light and pinkish was now a stark violet. Those warm brown eyes she had stared into were golden, lurish, but decidedly the same.

There was an image of a spider on her back. Mercy comes up with the nickname _Spinne_ in light of it. There were other images and words inked into her skin, and she frowns. The tattoos are detestable, and Mercy decides that she hates them.

There are many souls in this area. Mercy leads each one of them with the same amount of care and attention that she had given to Spinne's first victim. She notices that those piercing gold eyes cling to her as she takes each soul. Is she unnerved, or does Spinne think that she can take her life too? Mercy leans towards neither. Spinne must know by now that there's no way someone can kill her again.

"You wanted to know why I killed my husband," Spinne calls suddenly. Mercy turns around and their eyes meet. There is no emotion in her eyes, and there is no emotion in her tone either. "I killed him because it felt good to do it. I killed him because it would free me from hell."

Mercy doesn't ask any questions. She doesn't think she'll get any answers.

* * *

The answers don't come in all at once. Mercy starts to piece them together. It's a common theme between them now; Spinne kills, Mercy comes. Spinne tells her something about herself, and Mercy flies off.

* * *

Spinne has killed 267 people in the span of a year. Spinne says that she will kill many more, and that she doesn't regret her actions. She does it to try and get a rise out of Mercy, it's clear in the way that she says it. Perhaps Angela Ziegler would have been horrified. Angela Ziegler would have cried and begged. For her to stop? For her to die? Perhaps both.

Mercy is unhappy, of course. She likes to think that she doesn't care, but there's a gut feeling that screams "there is something wrong with this". She doesn't want to take so many lives. Mercy considers asking her to stop, because it makes her job that much harder for a multitude of reasons. Mercy never does; she doesn't think that Spinne will listen.

* * *

"My name is Widowmaker."

Mercy turns around. So Spinne has finally decided to give her a name. Against her better judgement, she gives Widowmaker a small smile. She doesn't think about it for very long, but she thinks that Widowmaker smiles back.

The name is eerily fitting. Was this a name that she had given to herself, in the same way that Mercy had? Their eyes stay locked. "I could hear them laughing. It was funny to them, to destroy my life and to take everything I ever loved away from me. I am a broken woman, Mercy. I get off to killing, and seeing you is one of the few solaces that this _malédiction_ of a world can give me anymore."

"I am sorry for your loss."

Widowmaker was expecting silence. "... I can get back what I have lost. I just… I need to fulfill my orders, and they will give my humanity back." Mercy knows that this isn't true. She knows that Widowmaker knows that this isn't true.

So why is she trying to convince herself that it is?

* * *

 **Project Name:** Widowmaker _[formerly Amélie Lacroix]_

 **Medical History:** No pre-existing conditions.

 **Description:** Gérard Lacroix's former wife. Subjected to phobia exploitation for two weeks [subject has a fear of arachnids which has since been eradicated] before sending her back to Overwatch HQ.  
Murdered Gérard Lacroix with no complications, although claimed to see a personification of death for three days afterwards. Carries out heists and various assassinations. Occasionally assigned to work with Sombra and Reaper [see individual files for more information].

 **Status:** Active

 **Notes:**

 _[XX/XX/XXXX]:_ Doctor Fritjof Karlsen proposed a plan to lower Widowmaker's need motives drastically. Plans included extreme bradycardia [8 BPM], neural reworking in the hippocampus and amygdala, as well as a switch that when activated, increases dopamine neuronal activity. The purpose of these proposals was "to make it so that she feels as little remorse as possible, and to steady her aim so she can actually land shots" and "to give her an addition to doing a job well done, not just the killing itself".  Karlsen's original proposal can be viewed here.  
 _[XX/XX/XXXX]:_ Doctor Nico Genovese sent a revised copy of the proposals. Argued that 8 BPM would damage Widowmaker to the point of cerebral anoxia, and suggested that heart rate is upped to 18 BPM. Also proposed a tapetum implant that would allow Widowmaker to see in the dark.  Genovese's reviews can be viewed here.  
 _[XX/XX/XXXX]:_ Widowmaker has made repeated claims that she can see the Grim Reaper, and refers to her as Mercy. Psychological testing and CT scans prove that Widowmaker is not experiencing symptoms of schizophrenia or psychosis. Delusions do not seem to interfere with Widowmaker's work. Overseers are advised to proceed with caution.

* * *

The silence and knowing looks have become too familiar to Mercy. Mercy fears that she's growing attached to Widowmaker, and she wonders if Widowmaker feels the same to her. It's been two years and six months since their first meeting, and Widowmaker now has 443 confirmed kills. Mercy knows that Widowmaker is past the point of redemption.

Even still, Mercy is drawn to her. Not to the souls she's created, the mayhem she's caused. But Widowmaker herself. It's troubling. She's not supposed to grow attached, to make friends, and yet here she is, finding herself… Elated when she discovers that Widowmaker has gone on another killing spree. It is sickening, but Mercy wonders if she can forgive herself long enough to indulge.

* * *

"Tell me how you came to be," Widowmaker asks. Mercy thinks upon this for a moment. It's been such a long time since she's thought about her life as Angela Ziegler, much less the ending of that life. She's silent for a long time, but Widowmaker is fine with waiting.

"I used to be one of the world's leading medical researchers. I finished my pre-medicals at seventeen, and graduated med school at twenty one. I was a prodigy. I worked as a surgeon before the Swiss government offered to pay for my own research station. Perhaps you use some of my inventions today. The… Nanobots. Seeks out abnormalities in the human body and adapts to become whatever that body needs. Skin cells, extra blood, bone, whatever. If the body has the ability to naturally replace what it's lost, the nanobots would flush out soon after. If the person in question had medical disabilities, the nanobots had the option to monitor the body for a few days to tell themselves what was 'normal' for that person."

Widowmaker nods slowly. Mercy feel a prickle of embarrassment; Widowmaker didn't ask about her research. But she encourages her anyways. "That must have required extensive testing."

"It did. And I'm not proud of the way that I did it," Mercy admitted. "I asked for human subjects to test the results of my research on. The benefits of what I was suggesting outweighed the costs. So I was given twenty people to test on. If results proved fruitful, I would be allowed to continue. If not, they would cut my funding. It seemed fair, and I was confident."

"And?"

"Out of the original group, seven out of the twenty survived. Four of them had weaker immune systems due to the nanobots multiplying and taking precedence over natural cells. Flushed themselves out as a result of an error." Mercy takes in a deep breath. Exhale. "But that's not what you wanted to know."

Widowmaker shrugs. "It was interesting to hear nonetheless."

"There was… An explosion. People were angry with the testing I did. The lives I took. Seventeen people… That's a lot of families. And people grew angry when the nanobots didn't work. I was the only person working on them up until I died; someone else improved the design after. Anyways, they rigged the place with explosives and hit the button while I was inside." Mercy doesn't know if she had deserved to die right then. She tells herself that she didn't, but she's truthfully unsure. "I survived for a while. Tried to inject the nanobots into me. They worked, just not in the way that I was hoping. Right now, my body is made up entirely of nanobots. And because of that, the others who are like me… They couldn't lead my soul. What are you supposed to do with someone who's spirit is alive when the body is dead? They turned me into one of them. And I've been leading souls ever since."

Widowmaker says nothing for a long time.

"Perhaps we are alike. But my spirit is dead, and my body is alive."

Mercy doesn't know what to say to that.

* * *

Widowmaker kisses Mercy roughly. Mercy doesn't let herself overanalyze the situation, and instead she presses her body to Widowmakers, and she kisses back. It's awkward, not chaste, but when they pull away, Mercy couldn't think of a way to make the moment more perfect. She grins at Widowmaker, and Widowmaker grins back.

* * *

Mercy knows their relationship is messed up, unnatural. Ethically wrong. But a killer and death itself; a more perfect combination couldn't possibly exist. "Ich liebe di," she says to Widowmaker, with a tenderness her voice hasn't been able to reach for a very long time.

Widowmaker sighs lovingly. She smiles. "Je t'aime," she says in return.


End file.
